12 Rounds (8 page)

Melissa cuts into my thoughts when she starts pacing across the length of the small, square room. The wall behind her is lined with wide square mirrors. I glance at my reflection, frown then look away. My hair looks frizzy and there are dark circles under my eyes. Normally I don’t look this bad, but I didn't really get a good night's sleep. I forgot to take my Ambien before bed because I was up late cramming for my English Lit final, and I feel asleep at my desk.

Peering over my shoulder I count the women in the class. There are ten of us total and we're all sitting on the plush, blue carpeted floor. Facing Melissa, she starts to speak and I tune her out. I'm wondering if the rest of the women in the class have come here for the same reason I have. Were they ordered to come here because they had something traumatic happen to them in the past? Maybe they're here because they think it might be fun. No. That doesn't seem right. Who takes a self-defense class for fun?

“You!”

What if the women in the class have a horrible home life? What if they're spouses are abusive?

“Hey you!”

My head snaps up and Melissa is standing directly in front of me, staring down at me with a fierce look in her eye. “Yeah,” I answer her weakly.

“Would you like to introduce yourself to the rest of the class?”

“Sure. My name is Hadlee Flax. I'm a student at Carver University.”

Melissa smiles. “Very good. Nice to meet you, Hadlee.”

The rest of the class follows Melissa's lead. “Nice to meet you, Hadlee.”

“Nice to meet you all.” My voice is soft, small, and barely audible. I don't like being singled out, and apparently I've made myself a target for not paying attention when Melissa began the introductions.

“Join me for a demonstration, Hadlee.” This is a command not a request. Melissa leans down, extending her hand to me. I don't want to do this. I hesitate and look to Lara for some kind of back-up. She just shakes her head, shrugs, and gives me a nonchalant look that tells me I'm on my own. My fingers tremble as I take Melissa's hand and she helps me to my feet. I can feel my heart beating rapidly in my chest as a nervous flutter whips through my stomach. I really don't want to do this.

All eyes are on me and I keep my eyes on the floor as Melissa guides me by the shoulders, positioning me in front of her. “The first major component in being able to defend yourself is knowing where your attacker is.” Melissa steps in front of me and I meet her gaze. “Now Hadlee, I want you to close your eyes. Pretend you can't see your attacker. Without sight you need to rely on your other senses to locate him or her. Understand?”

I nod and reluctantly close my eyes.

The silence in the room is deafening. I strain to hear any movement Melissa might be making. But I can't hear anything. I don't remember if she was wearing any perfume or if her body was giving off any kind of odor because the smell wasn't distinct enough. My body stiffens when I feel Melissa's presence behind me. In a nanosecond, she's on me, wrapping both of her arms around the core of my chest. At that moment I panic. My neck, her hands are too close to my neck. In my mind I'm envisioning the hands I always envision. The calloused, manly hands. “No!” I shriek. “No!”

Before I can control my emotions I start screaming. My whole body is shaking and Melissa spins me around, her fingers digging into my shoulders. I bury my face in my hands, trying with all of my might to keep my tears from falling. My chest vibrates and my breaths are coming out short and raspy. Melissa shakes me gently. “Hadley. Hadley, calm down. It's all right.” Her voice is soft and soothing, but I'm still shaken up. I can't get the image of the hands out of my mind.

“I'm sorry,” I mumble. “I'm sorry. I thought... It felt too real. It felt too real.”

Melissa smooths back a strand of my hair and I drop my hands at my sides, finally able to control my breathing. I feel like I not only let Melissa down, but I let myself down. “Why don't you sit out of class today, Hadley. I'll have Lara fill you in on what we go over.” Melissa shoots a look at Lara. “Is that okay with you, Lara?”

“Fine by me,” she says.

“Go have a seat in the waiting room, Hadley. I'll come talk to you after the class is over.”

“Okay,” I say softly and walk toward the door, ears filled with the whispering voices of the other women in the class. Then ashamed and embarrassed, I make my exit.

Chapter Nine

~Sean~

I never forget a face.

Ma used to tell me it was a gift that I have a photographic memory, but there are times, times like a few minutes ago, where I think it’s a curse.

Not that I’d ever forget her face anyway.

You never forget the face of the person’s life you saved.

And she’s here…

She just randomly shows up where I train. That can’t be a coincidence, right?

I take a breather from knocking the shit out of my sparring partner and walk over to the back left corner of the ring. There was a tall brunette who was eye-fucking me earlier and she’s still next to the ring. She notices that I’m going for my water bottle and beats me to it, handing it to me with a wide toothed grin. “Hi there.” She has a light, airy voice and my eyes immediately zone in on her boobs. Hey, I’m a man. What do you expect? This girls’ jugs are massive. Each one the size of a grapefruit.

Super perky.

Tan.

And most likely fake.

I squirt water all over my over heated face, drink some, then stretch my arms out across the rope. I smirk at her, tilting my chin up. “What’s up?” My eyes sweep over her heart-shaped face. She’s hot. Symmetrical features. Nice light blue eyes. Then they drop to her stomach. Her toned stomach. But she’s got an hourglass shape. Which I like. Very much.

She glances around me at my sparring partner and puts on a pouty face. “You didn’t hurt him too bad did you?”

“Nah,” I say with a cocky chuckle. “He’ll recover.” But I’d hate to see what Avery Mullins looks like when I’m through with him though.

The girl bats her eye lashes and me and chews on her lower lip. “So what do you do for fun?”

My eyes burn into hers. “Lots of things.” I like to keep it short and simple with the broads I meet. I’m careful not to let them see the real me. Or let them know about some of the things I’ve done.

The girl smirks at me seductively, a sensual gleam in her eye. “Like what?”

She wants me to elaborate, but I don’t. I’d like to tell her,
you are what I’d do for fun,
but my thoughts are interrupted when Joe comes up behind me and whacks me in the back of the head with his palm. “Easy Casanova,” he walks to the other side of the ring and stands next to my sparring partner, “ keep that dick in your pants.”

I groan and glare at Joe from over my shoulder. “Cock blocking bastard.”

His eyes narrow. “What’s the first b?”

I let out a deep breath and stare at the girl standing in front of me. “No broads.” My eyes sweep over the girl and I give her a devilish grin. “Until after my title fight, that is.”

“All right lover boy!” Joe shouts. “Get back over here! We’re not finished yet!”

I wink at the brunette and she smiles excitedly. And just before I make my way over to Joe, I see the door to the classroom open and the girl I recognized from earlier creeps out. She keeps her head down and shuffles to the waiting room, not making eye contact with a single person in her path. She’s got mahogany colored hair, but I remember her being a blonde.

Maybe she colored it.

Or is wearing a wig.

I shrug. I don’t know why I care.

She obviously looks upset about something and there’s a part of me that’s curious to what it is. But I push that thought aside because something else makes me feel like her and the feds showing up at the same time is anything but a coincidence.

Chapter Ten

~Hadlee~

The gym is quiet.

A few people are still using some of the machines, but other than that it appears the crowd that was in here 45 minutes ago has dispersed. My eyes wander over to the empty boxing ring and a flood of relief washes through me. After the moment  I had in class just now the last thing I want is to see Sean Reilly's beautiful, yet menacing eyes full of hatred.

Swallowing, my throat feels raw and irritated from my incessant screaming so I make my way over to a vending machine in the corner of the waiting area and pull out a dollar from the pocket of my sweatpants. I've calmed down since being out of the class and all I can think about is ice cold water sliding down the back of my throat.

At the vending machine, I insert my dollar and press the bottled water button. The bottle is released from its claw and drops into the bottom of the vending machine and at the same time the sound of something thudding against the floor rings out behind me and I spin around, clutching my chest. My heart starts pounding. Hard. So hard, that I swear I can almost feel it blasting through my skin.

Sean Reilly is standing there.

In front of me.

He's staring.

His full, pouty lips turned down into a frown, his angular jaw-line clenched, just staring.

I can't move or speak. My insides are like birds threatening to take flight and fly south for the spring, almost flapping out of my skin. At least he isn't looking at me the way he was earlier. His gaze is still dark, menacing, but I can't see the full-blown hatred in his eyes.

He strolls toward me, his eyes never leaving mine and when he's only a few inches away, I bend my knees, dip down, and snatch my bottle of water from the vending machine. I grip it tightly, hugging it to my chest as Sean's eyes sweep over me in one fluid movement. I'm fascinated yet terrified at the same time, and as he hovers over me, propping an arm on top of the vending machine. I close my eyes and inhale deeply. He smells musky, a mixture of sweat and whatever cologne he wore this morning. When I open my eyes I focus on his lips and his profound, chiseled jaw that isn't clenched anymore, but now relaxed. Then I look up into his eyes. They are the  lightest blue-green eyes I've ever seen, reminding me of leaves on tropical trees in a rainforest. But it doesn’t matter how light and how gorgeous they are because they  still have a hard edge to them.

It's like I can see his life in his eyes and somehow I know it was a difficult one. He leans in lower, his lips a breath away from mine, and my breath hitches. I'm excited, scared, yet captivated at the same time. And just when I think he might do something crazy like kiss me he says, “Why are you here?”

I bite my bottom lip and my eyebrows bunch together. I'm confused by his question. “Excuse me?”

He backs away from me and folds his tatted up arms across his chest. “I said why are you here?”

“Um...What?” I don't know this guy. Though, the soft yet deep, comforting register of his voice is achingly familiar. “Um. My therapist thought it would be a good idea if I took self-defense classes, only that didn't work out so well.”

He raises both of his perfectly arched eyebrows. “Your therapist?” Then he slants his eyes, plants his forefinger against his lips like he’s thinking hard about something. Now he points it at me. “Weren’t you a blonde?”

“Yes.” How does he know that? I pick up a lock of my chesnut hair and examine it thoroughly, wondering if maybe Lara missed a few strands when she helped me color it. “I dyed it brown.”

He looks thoughtful for a moment, but then the hard edge to his features return. “You shouldn't be here.” He sounds stern and authoritative.

He uncrosses his arms and moves toward me, but I back up into the vending machine, creating a loud thump with my back. “And why is that?” I find a bit of boldness somewhere deep inside of me, a bit of boldness I haven't seen resurface in a year.

“Because I said so.” He lowers his voice. “You should leave.”

I stare up at him incredulously, with my mouth hanging open. Who in the hell does this guy think he is? “Maybe you should leave,” I snap at him. He scowls at me and I throw my hands over my mouth, as surprised as he seems to be at my outburst. “I'm sorry,” I mutter. “That was rude.” Then again he was being rude by telling me to leave in the first place. At least I'm the one with manners. “Anyway, I can't leave. My roommate is my ride and she's still in the class.”

I wait for him to say something, but he says nothing. Instead, he picks up the gym bag he threw on the floor, slings it over his shoulder, and storms out the door while I slump down in a chair wondering how in the world someone I've never even met could hate me so much.

~ ~ ~

Thirty minutes later Lara emerges from the class while I sit in my chair, sipping on my water thinking about Sean Reilly. I'm trying to place the sound of his voice. I'm trying to grasp why it sounds so familiar to me.

Is it the slight Irish brogue?

The deep rasp in it?

  Lara interrupts my thoughts when she snatches the bottle of water from my hand and takes a sip. I peer up at her. Lara is almost six feet tall almost a full foot taller than I am, and sometimes she appears to be intimidating, but she's not.

I remember one time when we were at a dance club our sophomore year of college, we were in line for the restroom while some guy in line waiting for the men's room told her she was sexy, but looked like a bitch. Lara just shrugged and I wound up scowling at the guy. I don’t know why I cared more about his comment than she did. Or why to some guys she comes off that way. Honestly, Lara is the kindest, most genuine, and heartfelt person I know. She's anything but a bitch.

After chugging down half of my bottled water, she wipes her mouth with her long, lengthy arm and hands the bottle back to me. “Boy I've got some moves to show you, tonight.” She winks at me and I laugh.

“Is that so?”

 “Yeah. Hey, you can go back now. Melissa is waiting for you.”

I get up from my seat as the rest of the women, from the class walk out the exit and make my way back to the small room with blue carpet. The door is open, so I lift my fist and tap softly. Melissa is sitting Indian Style in the middle of the room filling out some papers. At my knock she lifts her head and a soft smile spreads on her lips. “Come in, Hadlee. Come in and have a seat.”